


when we all fall asleep, where do we go?

by GallifreyanFairytale



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (sort of???) - Freeform, Ambassador Sokka (Avatar), Angst, Derealization, Established Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Firelord Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Sleep Paralysis, Sokka (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Sokka (Avatar)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanFairytale/pseuds/GallifreyanFairytale
Summary: Sokka doesn’t remember when it started, exactly.He’s always had nights like this - when he wakes up hours before the rest of the world, and he tosses and turns until he can’t stand it anymore and accepts that his sleep for the night is over.or: sokka & sleep
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 264





	when we all fall asleep, where do we go?

**Author's Note:**

> me before writing this: i think i've projected on zuko way too much lately. time to switch it up and project on sokka instead! :D
> 
> anyways, this is based on my experience with sleep paralysis (also sleep in general) and my experience alone. it's obviously not going to be the same for everyone. also please Do Not listen to me for advice on dealing with sleep paralysis because my way of coping (as you can see) is projecting onto fictional characters and making jokes about it.
> 
> title from bury a friend by billie eilish

_**when i wake up, i see** _  
_**you with me**_

_**and you say, "as long as i'm here** _  
_**no one can hurt you"  
  
**_

_everything i wanted - billie eilish_

* * *

Sokka doesn’t remember when it started, exactly.

He’s always had nights like this - when he wakes up hours before the rest of the world, and he tosses and turns until he can’t stand it anymore and accepts that his sleep for the night is over. 

And it isn’t _always_ that Sokka can’t fall back asleep. If he wakes up at midnight, or even within the few hours afterwards, he can roll over and drift off again. It’s _just_ in these hours - when the night owls have gone to sleep and the early birds have yet to wake up. These hours, when Sokka might as well be the only person in the entire world who isn’t off in his own little dreamland riding on the back of a polar bear dog through fields of cotton candy. 

It was worse when Sokka was younger, of course.

These days, he can trick his brain into getting bored of being awake when there’s nothing to do after a couple hours and he can doze off just as the people who wake up early _on purpose_ (see: firebenders) are waking up for the day. He _can_ do it. It just comes with… not-so-ideal side effects.

In all honesty, Sokka blames his dad. His dad does this too - wakes up at this spirits-forsaken hour of the morning and can’t fall back asleep. Sokka doesn’t know if whatever brand of insomnia he’s struggling with is _actually_ hereditary, but he’s going to blame his dad anyways.

He turns and looks at Zuko, who is still fast asleep, good ear pressed snugly against his pillow. That’s all Sokka needs to shift himself up into a sitting position - he knows Zuko won’t hear him, and if Zuko feels any movement, he won’t wake up enough to question it. It’s not like Sokka hasn’t woken up like this a hundred times before.

He always pretends he was only awake for a few minutes before Zuko. It’s easier that way, he’s realized. He did the same thing when travelling before the war ended with Aang and Katara. He’d wake up hours before them, hours before the sun began to rise, and he’d draw designs in the dirt or read by the light of the moon or walk around the campsite far enough away that he wouldn’t wake anyone but close enough to keep the others in his field of vision. It’s easier to pretend his sleep schedule is _fine_ (or just not as bad as it is) than to worry the others.

Besides, it’s not like he keeps it a secret. He whines about his dad’s insomnia genes all the time.

He’s pretty sure people don’t actually believe him.

Or they just don’t realize how often he has nights like this. How often he wakes up before everyone else and is left alone with his thoughts for _hours_. Forcing himself to _try_ to get back to sleep until he can’t stand his mind anymore and he has to do _something_ before he breaks down completely. And it’s fine - really. Sokka doesn’t need anyone’s sympathy or pity. It’s not like there’s anything anyone can do about it. It’s just something Sokka has to deal with, and will have to deal with for the rest of his life.

The others would make too big a deal about it, and Sokka doesn’t want anyone to waste their concerns on him and something that’s impossible to fix.

Sokka slides out of bed, slowly, carefully, and breathes a sigh of relief when Zuko doesn’t stir. He pads over to his desk and fumbles around for the spark rocks he insisted on having for times like this. When Zuko is awake, obviously he can light the candles himself. But Zuko isn’t awake, so Sokka settles for lighting a candle like a normal person.

He reads by candlelight long enough that he loses track of time, but when his eyelids start to feel heavy, the sun still isn’t rising. He figures it’s been long enough, puts the candle out, and climbs back into bed next to Zuko. His mind is quiet now - or quiet enough that he can roll onto his side, close his eyes, and slowly let sleep overtake him.

It’s a process - falling back to sleep in the morning like this. Sometimes, if his mind gets bored enough, he’ll drift off quickly. Other times, like this morning, it’s a bit more complex.

The tiredness comes in waves, and Sokka has to push each one back until they build up enough and sleep crashes over him all at once like a tidal wave. It’s like lying on the beach, the tide slowly washing up over you, but never quite enough to cover you completely. You have to shake the water off - push it back like a waterbender - until the pressure builds enough and the wave is big enough that it carries you away all at once.

The first wave comes, and Sokka can feel his limbs begin to lock up, the telltale fizziness eating away at them. He shuffles his arm, knocking the wave back. The second wave comes, and Sokka does the same. He doesn’t know how many times this happens, and he won’t remember it clearly in the morning, but sleep _does_ eventually wash over him and take him back to dreamland before the sky begins to lighten.

He sleeps for five minutes or an hour - who knows; time is hard to tell during mornings like this - before he half-wakes up.

It goes like it always does. Sokka’s body is frozen in place, but his mind is awake enough to be afraid and his eyes can dart around the room. He fell asleep on the wrong side, with his back to Zuko, which makes it all that worse. He realized pretty quickly that if he can see Zuko when this happens, it isn’t so scary. He knows that if anything bad were to happen - if any angry spirits or vengeful assassins were to break into the room - Zuko would be able to fight them off even if Sokka can’t move.

But this morning, he’s rolled away from Zuko. All he can see is the dark of their bedroom through hazy, half-asleep eyes, and the shadows that could turn into monsters at any moment. They never do - Sokka never sees any sort of lucid dream visions when he gets like this - but his chest always seizes in fear anyways. His heartbeat always picks up and his mind goes into overdrive, making up a thousand possible scenarios of things he _could_ see, but never projecting any of them out into this sub-reality Sokka is locked in. He knows if he could slow his breaths and calm himself, he could get out of this easier, but he _can’t_. If he lets his guard down, the monsters will come, and Sokka won’t be ready.

It’s silly, Sokka knows this. He knows the monsters aren’t going to come, and he _knows_ that even if they do, they aren’t real. But he doesn’t know what sort of horrible creatures his mind could come up with - how terrifying they’ll be. He doesn’t trust his mind not to project a haunting spirit or sinister demon into the room and having it creep towards Sokka while Sokka is frozen completely, unable to move, unable to do _anything_ besides watch as it comes closer, closer, too afraid to shut his eyes and too afraid to keep them open.

He starts with his fingers. Those are easiest to move, and he can work at freeing the rest of his body from there. He focuses on one finger - the index finger on his right hand. He puts all of his energy into wiggling it, just a little, just enough that it isn’t paralyzed anymore.

When it moves, freedom washes up his arm, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. This is a process too - wiggling his fingers until he can move his hand and then his arm, but it works. It’s not _fun_ \- wrenching his fingers in and out of the invisible prison they’re locked in - but he _can_ do it. He focuses on his fingers until he can focus on something bigger, then jolts his entire arm out of its locked position.

That’s what will wake his brain up enough that he can move - freeing an entire limb.

Once his arm is free, and the rest of his body is able to follow, Sokka turns himself over so he can look at Zuko. His hair is falling over his face, and he looks so pretty like this. It calms Sokka’s nerves, and he watches Zuko until he falls back into sleep’s arms.

He’ll only wake up like that once in the night. Once sleep reclaims him after a paralysis episode, that’s it for the morning. He’ll wake up after the sun has risen with the memory of the episode hazy and vague, like maybe it didn’t happen at all even though Sokka knows it most certainly _did_. 

When he _does_ wake up for good, Zuko’s side of the bed is empty. Given how brightly the sun is shining in through the windows, that isn’t surprising. Sometimes, Zuko will stay in bed until Sokka wakes up, but most times, he gets too restless to wait very long. Sokka can’t blame him on that one.

Sokka stumbles out of bed and over to Zuko’s desk, where he knows there will be a note waiting for him, telling him where he can find Zuko this morning.

_Sokka,_

_Went to the kitchens for tea. I’ll head back to the room when I’m done to check on you if you don’t come find me._

_Love always,_

_Zuko <3_

* * *

Sokka doesn’t track how often he wakes up far too early for it to be healthy, nor does he track the nights he actually manages to fall back asleep. He’s considered it, on occasion, but it’s not like his mind sticks to a schedule when it comes to what mornings Sokka gets to suffer most. there’s no pattern, no rhyme or reason, no warning signs the night before. 

Unless, of course, Sokka falls asleep _unreasonably_ early, in which case he can fall asleep knowing there is a 100% chance he’s going to wake up way too early, and a 90% chance he’ll fall back asleep a few hours later only to face sleep paralysis before he can get any actual rest.

Sokka hates those days; when he got such little sleep the night before that he crashes around seven and he wakes up even earlier than usual. Those mornings are the worst. He’s awake earlier, stays awake longer, and almost _always_ falls back asleep at the cost of a sleep paralysis episode.

This is one of those mornings. Sokka is on his back, eyes glued to the ceiling, limbs all frozen and stuck and heartbeat pounding so fast he’s afraid it’ll wear itself out and just _stop_. His fingers are locked in place, and his head hurts trying to free them. He half-wonders if he should be doing this; dragging himself out of paralysis so harshly. It’s always jerky movements that free his limbs, and he worries that maybe it’s going to snap his brain or something.

He moves one finger, movements sharp and difficult. He has to keep moving his finger, keep focusing on wiggling it around so it doesn’t lock up again. He has to keep moving it, even if it’s uncomfortable and his brain is much too tired to keep up such constant movement, no matter how small and insignificant said movement is.

(It isn’t insignificant, though, is it? This is what frees his body from the prison it’s locked itself into.)

And then there’s a warmth on Sokka’s arm - the one attached to the fingers he’s trying to move. It’s not heavy, nor is it very big. But it’s firm, and it’s… nice, Sokka thinks. If his sleep paralysis demons are going to offer him a gentle hand, maybe they aren’t as bad as he fears.

Sokka moves his eyes to look, expecting some twisted creature to be sitting on the bed next to him, but he can’t turn his head. He doesn’t see anything towering over him, doesn’t see anything except the empty, dark, air. The warmth is still there, though. Constant, soft, reassuring.

Sokka hates to jerk his arm away from it, but he has to. That’s how the process goes - he frees his fingers, then his hand, then his arm. He rips it out of the clutches of its paralysis, and the warmth goes away. It’s only a few moments before Sokka feels his arm locking up again, and he shifts it just enough so it doesn’t get the chance.

He hears a noise - a voice. That’s happened before, a voice from nowhere trickling into Sokka’s brain, saying words that don’t make sense or Sokka just can’t make out. He’s heard white noises too - something like rushing wind or pouring rain or festival music. He doesn’t care much about that; half the time he hardly registers it’s there.

He keeps shifting his arm until he gets to the point where he can break his entire body free, and he rolls onto his side. He’s ready to slip his eyes shut again, except he isn’t met with the sight of Zuko sleeping.

He’s met with a pair of golden eyes, full of worry.

That actually wakes Sokka up fully; instead of the half-awake state he’d dragged himself into just long enough to tear his body out of its invisible prison.

His brain snaps back into focus, the haziness fading away and replacing itself with something sort of cold and afraid. Not of Zuko, necessarily. More like he’s afraid of Zuko’s _reaction_ \- Sokka doesn’t know what he looks like when he’s frozen like that. Back when it first started, he tried to scream out for help. No one ever came, so he’s realized his voice must not have ever worked.

“Sokka? Are you awake?”

Sokka blinks slowly. “Um. Yeah.” Why wouldn’t Sokka be awake?

Zuko breaths out a sigh of relief. His hand comes up and rests on Sokka’s cheek. “What happened there? You wouldn’t answer me.”

Right. The voice. It must not have been a creation of Sokka’s mind, then - it must have actually been Zuko talking. The warmth on his arm must have been Zuko too.

“It was just some weird sort of half-dream thing,” Sokka says. It’s not _quite_ a lie, but it’s not really the entire truth either. “I heard you talking, but I didn’t know what you were saying, and I didn’t think it was real.”

Zuko seems to relax a bit at that. “You’re okay, then?”

“Yeah,” Sokka whispers. That one’s true. “I’m okay.” He moves himself closer to Zuko, close enough that he can kiss his forehead, then his nose, and then pull Zuko into his arms. “It wasn’t a nightmare,” he adds, because he knows that’s what Zuko is really worried about. They’ve both had their fair share of nightmares over the years, but Sokka does not put sleep paralysis in the nightmare category. Not when he isn’t even haunted by demons or anything; just his own mind telling him _THEY’RE COMING_ on repeat until he’s hyperventilating.

Zuko pulls back from Sokka just enough so he can look him in the eye. “You know you can talk to me about your dreams whether you classify them as nightmares or not, right?”

Sokka does what he does best and deflects with humor. “What, you want to try and interpret my dreams to see if they hold any ominous warnings of the future?”

Zuko furrows his eyebrows. “Sokka, I’m being serious.”

“Me too,” Sokka says solemnly. “One time, I had a dream about cabbages coming to life and eating people. I’m pretty sure that means there’s going to be a cabbage-pocalypse and we should probably start preparing a bunker now.”

“You’re deflecting,” Zuko states instead of laughing. “I’m not going to force you to talk if you don’t want to, but you know I’m always here for you, right? You always tell me my problems are deserving of being listened to. The same goes for you.”

Sokka smiles weakly. He’s not going to tell Zuko, but he appreciates the sentiment. Besides, it’s not like he’s keeping this from him because he doesn’t feel like it’s a “worthy” problem; it’s just not something Zuko can fix, so it’s not something he needs to worry about.

“I know.”

Zuko nods, apparently satisfied with that answer. “As long as you know.” He snuggles back closer to Sokka.

Sokka’s filled his sleep paralysis quote for the night, so he sleeps soundly once he drifts back off, and when he wakes up in the morning, Zuko is still in his arms.

* * *

Sokka will laugh when he tells his friends he woke up at some spirits-forsaken hour of the morning, mostly because as long as he’s laughing about it, no one’s really worried about him. They think he doesn’t really care, it doesn’t really affect him, it maybe happens once or twice a month at most.

(Maybe Sokka’s jokes are actually a cry for help, but they’re never perceived that way, and Sokka is content with that.)

This morning is a no sleep morning, Sokka can tell already. He’s been awake for a couple hours already, and his brain isn’t tiring itself out enough to fall back asleep, which he’s okay with. No more sleep means no sleep paralysis.

It’s a full moon, too, which is why Sokka is seated out on the balcony, legs dangling over the edge, when Zuko finds him. 

“You’re up early,” he says, making Sokka jump.

Sokka shrugs as Zuko sits down next to him. “Couldn’t fall back asleep.” He glances over at Zuko to find worry etched across his face. “C’mon, I always talk about waking up at four and not being able to fall back asleep ‘cause I inherited my dad’s rotten sleep genes.”

Zuko sighs deeply. He doesn’t say anything to that; just leans his head on Sokka’s shoulders and looks up at the moon. They sit like that for a while, watching Yue and listening to each other breathe. Sokka is starting to think Zuko might have fallen back asleep when he finally speaks up.

“How often does this happen?”

“What?”

“You waking up like this,” Zuko explains, lifting his head from Sokka’s shoulder. “You seem like you pull it out as a joke whenever it’s convenient, but do you… do you really wake up this early so often?”

Sokka’s gaze drops to look at the ground below them. “Are you going to get mad at me if I tell you the truth?” he whispers, quiet enough that he thinks maybe Zuko didn’t hear it.

“Sokka…”

“Please don’t do that.” Sokka doesn’t mean for his voice to crack, but it does anyways. He doesn’t want to cry, especially not over something so stupid. He’s woken up way too early his entire life - it’s not something he needs to shed any tears over.

He sucks in a deep breath and waits a few moments to say anything else, so he knows he can keep his voice steady this time. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just something that happens. I don’t want you feeling bad or anything. I don’t want--" He sighs. "People just pity me, but I don’t want pity. It doesn’t do anything, you know? And really, I’m used to it. I’ve been waking up early like this since I was a kid.”

“Okay.” Sokka looks over at Zuko in time to see him nodding, though it looks more like he’s nodding to himself than to Sokka. “Yeah, okay. I get it. Whenever I mention that I can’t sleep in any later than, like, nine, people will look at me like I’m some sort of sob story. I’m just a firebender; my brain isn’t wired to be able to sleep in. Would I _like_ to be able to sleep until noon on my days off like Mai and Ty Lee? Sure. But I don’t need people to pity me because I can’t.”

“Yeah,” Sokka breathes out. “Yeah. That’s it.” A nervous laugh escapes from the back of his throat. “No wonder we work so well together; neither one of us can sleep right.”

Zuko smiles. “Right. It’s the screwed up sleep schedules that really fuel this relationship.”

Sokka bumps his shoulder against Zuko’s. “You gotta promise me you’re not going to be beating yourself up for not noticing or anything, alright? I was keeping how often it happens hidden on purpose so you wouldn’t worry.”

Zuko returns the favor, bumping his shoulder against Sokka’s “You know me too well.”

“I’m your boyfriend. It’s my job to know you too well.”

Zuko reaches over and takes one of Sokka’s hands in his. “You promise you’re okay, though? I know this isn’t really something I can help with but… if there _is_ anything I can do, let me know.”

“I promise I’m okay.” Sokka leans over and kisses Zuko, soft and quick. “The best thing you can do to help is just… not be mad at yourself for not realizing sooner.” He cups Zuko’s face in his hands, thumb brushing against the bottom of his scar. “I love you. So much.”

Zuko surges forward and pulls Sokka into a hug. He mutters a soft “I love you too,” into Sokka’s shoulder.

Neither one of them end up falling back asleep. They opt to head to the kitchens instead, making tea that doesn’t even turn out good, laughing about nothing, and stealing kisses in the near-dark.

* * *

Zuko isn’t in bed.

Sokka is pretty certain of that fact. He’s not in their bed, and Sokka is on his side, facing the direction where Zuko _should_ be, and Zuko isn’t there. All that’s there is an empty space, blankets pulled up to the pillow, like Zuko isn’t even _supposed_ to be there. Like he never was there - he was always just a figment of Sokka’s imagination.

Sokka wishes his imagination would conjure a hallucination of Zuko. It might make him feel better.

But no, Zuko isn’t in bed, and Sokka’s stuck on his side, which means he has his back to an entire half of the room that could be housing spirits know what sort of horrors, whether real or made up by Sokka’s hyperactive mind. (Never mind the fact that he’s never seen any sort of hallucination monsters before - his brain is still shouting _THEY’RE COMING! THEY’RE BEHIND YOU!_ )

_They’re behind you they’re behind you they’re behind you they’re behind you they’re behind you they’re behind you they_

Sokka squeezes his eyes shut - the only movement he can make. He squeezes his eyes shut and he waits for wiry fingers to tickle his spine or cold blades to stab into his back. He waits for claws or teeth or anything at all. Every second that nothing comes, his heartbeat speeds up and his brain provides more more more more more more

Sokka tries to open his mouth. He doesn’t know if he succeeds or not, can’t tell if he’s even capable of making any sort of noise in this state, but he can’t even focus enough to move his fingers around right now. So he tries to call out for Zuko, tries to just scream so someone will come find him and shake him out of this.

_ZUKO ZUKO ZUKO ZUKO ZUKO_

Sokka opens his eyes. Zuko doesn’t come. Zuko isn’t here, Zuko never has been here, Zuko was all in Sokka’s mind, Zuko isn’t coming Zuko isn’t coming Zuko isn’t coming.

_ZUKO ZUKO ZUKO ZUKO ZUKO_

Sokka doesn’t think he’s actually screaming, mostly because _someone_ should have come for him by now if he were. _Someone_ should have heard him, someone should have found him, someone should have shook him awake and stopped the screaming.

He tries again.

_ZUKO ZUKO ZUKO ZUKO ZUKO_

No one is coming. Sokka knows that. No one is coming, something is behind him, Zuko isn’t here, Zuko isn’t here, something is behind him.

Fingers.

Sokka can move his fingers. He can get out of this. He just has to stop thinking _behind you behind you behind you_ long enough to focus on moving his fingers. He just has to--

The door opens.

The door isn’t opening, really. But the door _sounds_ like it opens, and it _sounds_ like footsteps are approaching the bed. It’s just noise - noise can’t hurt Sokka. And even if it isn’t just noise, even if _THEY’RE COMING_ is now _THEY’RE HERE_ , "they" aren’t real. Sokka knows this. Sokka knows they aren’t real, they’re not real. It’s not real. The door never opened, there’s no monster coming towards him, it’s _not real_.

A voice. Sokka doesn’t know what it’s saying. He imagines it’s some sort of threat, probably. His mind tells him it’s _coming coming coming_ \--

It’s _not_ coming. Sokka just needs to move his fingers. He _just_ needs to move his fingers, and he’ll be okay.

Sokka closes his eyes. (Or were they closed already?) Don’t think about the voice. The voice isn’t real. The voice isn’t real. Nothing is coming, nothing is coming, it isn’t real.

Sokka moves one finger, wiggling it back and forth, focusing on not letting it stop, not letting it freeze back up with the rest of his body. Back and forth. Back and forth. Don’t stop moving. Don’t stop moving. Don’t stop moving. It’s uncomfortable, it’s _tiring_. Sokka wants to just give up, just stop moving, just let his heart beat itself out and die here in this bed at the hands of his invisible sleep paralysis demons.

Something touches Sokka’s arm.

He tries to scream, puts everything he can into getting any noise out at all.

_ZUKO!_

The _something_ moves his arm, and it’s enough for Sokka to rip it away, rip it out of paralysis, rip it back into the real world. He can move.

It hurts.

Or, it doesn’t hurt. Sokka is just so, _so_ , tired. But he _has_ to keep moving his arm, has to keep moving his legs, has to keep moving _something_ , because that is his only anchor to reality, his only way to avoid the monsters, his only way to, to, to--

“Sokka?” 

_ZUKO_.

Zuko.

Sokka opens his eyes as Zuko rolls him onto his back. There are no monsters, no demons, no visions. Just Zuko.

He really hopes this is real.

Sokka’s breathing slows and his mind begins to shake itself out of its stupor. Zuko is looking down at him, but Sokka can’t make out much in the dark besides his eyes. He knows they’re Zuko’s eyes, though. He knows Zuko’s eyes, even in the darkness.

“Sokka, hey. Can you hear me?”

“Zuko,” he croaks out. He's here, he's _real_.

Zuko lets out a sigh of relief. He nudges Sokka over just enough so he can climb into the bed next to him. It’s the wrong side, but he doesn’t seem particularly bothered by that right now. Sokka isn’t sure if he throws himself into Zuko’s arms or if Zuko pulls him over, but it’s probably a joint effort. Either way, Sokka ends up clinging onto Zuko while Zuko runs his fingers through Sokka’s hair and rubs circles on Sokka’s back. 

It might be a few minutes or it might be hours that they sit like this. Sokka doesn’t cry, and the memory of everything that just happened is already cloudy and slipping away, fading from Sokka’s grasp, feeling like something that happened in a reality so far away from Sokka he can’t possibly hope to reach it again.

“What was that?” Zuko finally asks. He pulls Sokka off of him so he can look at him. Sokka keeps his hands firmly situated on Zuko’s shoulders, though, making sure he’s _staying_.

“Nightmare,” Sokka mumbles.

“Sokka…” 

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Sokka, I’m _worried_.” He brings a hand up to cup Sokka’s cheek. “That didn’t look like a normal nightmare. You--” He sighs. Leans forward and rests his forehead against Sokka’s. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Sokka insists again.

“You can tell me about it anyways.”

“It’s--” Sokka grips Zuko’s shoulders harder. He’s not going to cry; there’s no reason to cry. “It’s just something that happens on the mornings I wake up early and then actually end up getting back to sleep. It’s like… my brain decided it would allow me to fall back asleep, but I’m gonna face consequences if I do.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “What kind of brain tries to punish itself for falling back asleep?”

Zuko pulls back. “What…what do you mean _consequences_?”

Sokka looks down. “It’s not a big deal,” he repeats, because he doesn’t need Zuko overreacting to this. It’s _not_ a big deal, and it’s not like Sokka hasn’t dealt with this for years now. “It’s just… sleep paralysis. It’s fine, though! I know how to deal with it; I can get myself out of it.”

“Sleep--” Zuko closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. Sokka braces himself for the _How are you the unluckiest person alive when it comes to sleep?_ look, like that face can fix whatever part of Sokka’s mind is broken to make him like this.

That look doesn’t come, though. It’s more of a _Why didn’t you tell me sooner?_ look, which is really what Sokka should have expected. “How long?”

Sokka shrugs. “Years. I don’t mind, though, really. I used to not be able to fall back asleep _ever_ when I woke up super early. I’ll take the sleep paralysis over that. And it’s not like there’s anything anyone can _do_ about it; there’s no magic cure for sleep paralysis. I didn’t want to worry you over something that can’t be fixed.”

“Is it really not a big deal?” Zuko asks. “Or are you just afraid to realize it’s a big deal because it’s something that you can’t fix?”

“Since when do you ask philosophical questions at five in the morning?”

Zuko scoffs.

Sokka sighs. “I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s _not_ a big deal, because I _know_ how to deal with it on my own. I mean… I’ve mentioned it to Katara and Aang in passing, but… Aang gets all squeamish and I don’t think either of them realize how… um, often… it happens. So I’ve dealt with it on my own, I _know_ how to deal with it, it’s _fine_. But--” He is _not_ going to cry over this. “But I try not to think about how I’m probably going to have to spend the rest of my life never able to sleep _right_.”

Zuko’s expression softens. He reaches forward and tucks a strand of Sokka’s hair behind his ear. “What can I do to help?”

“Just… be here, I guess,” Sokka replies. “It’s better when I can see you, or at least feel that you’re there. I mean-- usually, you _are_ here, so it’s not really anything you don’t _already_ do, but--”

“Sokka,” Zuko interrupts his rambling. “I’ll do whatever I can. I’m sorry I wasn’t here this morning.”

“It’s fine,” Sokka says, because it has to be. It wasn’t really _fine_ , but he can’t expect Zuko’s schedule to conform to his malfunctioning sleep brain. Sokka’s sleep paralysis is not Zuko’s responsibility; it’s Sokka’s, and Sokka can deal with it whether Zuko is in bed next to him or not. It’s _fine_. It just _sucks_ that Sokka’s brain is so terrible at sleep.

“No, Sokka, you--” Zuko shakes his head. “Sorry. You just looked so scared, and you were hyperventilating, and…” Zuko’s voice trails off. “It didn’t _look_ like it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Oh,” Sokka whispers. In his defense, it’s not like anyone’s caught him in the middle of a sleep paralysis episode before. It’s not like Sokka, in his delirious, frozen, half-asleep, state could possibly know what he looks like from an outsider’s perspective. And when Zuko says it like that, and Sokka really thinks about it…

Maybe it’s a little concerning. But that doesn’t make it fixable. Anything like this that doesn’t have a solution _can’t_ be that big of a deal, because what’s the point in fretting over something that’s unsolvable?

“You’re okay, though?” Zuko questions.

“Yeah.” Sokka nods. “I’m okay. I promise.” And he _is_. He’s awake, he can move, Zuko is here now--

“Wait.” Sokka pushes Zuko back from him and looks him up and down. His hair is still up. “You haven’t even slept yet. _Zuko_!” He reaches forward, easily freeing Zuko’s hair from its topknot. “I can’t-- _You_ \--” He groans, tossing the ribbon that was in Zuko’s hair towards the side table. Because it's a ribbon and isn’t weighty _at all_ , it flutters to the ground. 

Sokka tells himself he’ll remember to pick it up in the morning. (He won’t.)

“Go to sleep!” He finally manages, pointing an accusing finger at Zuko’s chest.

Zuko just laughs softly.

“What?!” Sokka demands. “I’m here whining about stuff that can’t even be fixed and meanwhile _you_ haven’t slept at all!” This is very much not fair at all. Zuko needs to be asleep three hours ago, and Sokka has been keeping him up.

“You’re cute,” Zuko mutters, leaning in. He bumps his head against Sokka’s shoulder.

“And _you’re_ deliriously tired,” Sokka shoots back. But he runs his fingers through Zuko’s hair and drops a kiss onto the top of his head.

Zuko hums. “At least _I_ don’t wake up at five in the morning sleep paralyzed because my brain hates me.”

As soon as the words are out of Zuko’s mouth, they both freeze. Sokka’s mouth drops open, but not because he’s offended. Mostly because he wasn’t expecting Zuko to say anything _close_ to that about this. Then again, Zuko _is_ deliriously tired and Sokka knows the more tired he gets, the less his brain is able to filter what he says.

It’s kind of funny, though, and Sokka starts laughing before he can think twice. He feels Zuko relax, the tension leaving his shoulders, and he starts laughing too. “I didn’t mean to say that,” he tells Sokka between giggles.

“I know you didn’t. That’s half of what makes it so funny.” Sokka shifts the two of them so they’re laying down. He rests his head on Zuko’s chest, feeling his heart beating against his cheek. “You really do need to go to sleep, though.”

“Mhm.” Zuko hugs Sokka closer to him. “Goodnight.” If Sokka knows Zuko (and he likes to think he does), Zuko is already half asleep. “Love you.”

Sokka smiles. “Love you too, sunshine.”

* * *

Sokka is _aware_ of his limbs. He can feel them, he knows he _needs_ to move them, knows he _can_ move them. He knows exactly where they are, knows they’re definitely still attached to his body. But it's a lot easier to move them in theory than it is in practice.

It’s like he’s a spirit possessing his own body. There’s layers to it. He can feel like he’s moving his arms, but really, he’s just _thinking_ he _should_ be moving his arms, and it’s like his spirit arms are moving, but they’re not controlling his actual arms right now. He has to slip his spirit arms back into his actual arms, which are way too heavy, and _tug, tug, tug_ until he _finally_ wrenches his actual arms from the position they were stuck in.

It takes all of Sokka’s focus, which is why he can’t move when his mind is also shouting _THEY’RE COMING_ or _THEY’RE BEHIND YOU_ or _ZUKO ISN’T HERE_ or whatever.

The different layers of existence are also how Sokka can think he’s calling out for help, but his actual mouth stays firmly shut.

Once Sokka’s arm is free, he has to keep shifting it, or it starts going tingly and getting heavy again. It’s like he’s wearing his own body, but he’s feeling the full weight of it for the first time, and the continuous movement is _a lot_ for a mind that’s half awake and half filled with mush that sounds vaguely like a roaring wind.

The good thing about this morning, though, is that Zuko is next to him. Sokka is on his back, so he can’t see Zuko, but he can feel him in the bed next to him. 

Sokka moves his arm over towards Zuko, slowly, reaching, wondering how far the expanse between them could possibly be when he can feel the heat radiating off of Zuko’s body. His hand does make it to Zuko’s, and he tangles their fingers together. The warmth from Zuko’s hand temporarily wards off the tingling sensation trying to creep back across Sokka’s arm.

There’s a shifting, and then there’s something else wrapping around Sokka’s arm. Something far warmer, far more comforting. Far less constricting even though this is real and tangible.

There’s a soft noise that comes with it, silky and smooth, something Sokka would wrap himself up in if he could. He’s not sure if his eyes are actually open or if he just feels like his eyes are open, but he manages to roll himself over onto his side and is met with something solid and soft and warm.

_I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you._

  
Sokka doesn’t know if that’s what the voice is actually saying or if it’s what his mind _thinks_ it’s saying, but it’s nice either way. Sokka tries to say something back, but he’s fairly certain no noise actually comes out. He doesn’t really have time to consider it, though, because he’s already drifting back off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: i wrote [another sleep paralysis fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29827794), this time centered around kya ii that can be read as a sequel to this if you're interested <3
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](https://zukkaclawthorne.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/H0LL0WKAIDAM)


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